A Shield Unexpected
by Winged-Violoncelle
Summary: Legolas is dubious about Thranduil's taste in apparel, and Elrond, being a truly good friend, kindly "defends" him.


**A/N: I had trouble deciding which category to put this under; ended up going with TH simply because I haven't written anything for it yet :). But the story doesn't quite take place in the TH timeline, as you will soon see.**

**I simply had to get this out of my head, despite having a midterm tomorrow. I hope my courage in jeopardizing my marks will be able to exchange for some laughter and, of course, some lovely reviews from you the reader!**

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**A Shield Unexpected**

It was a December day much too cold for wandering the paths of Imladris, even for one as fond of all landscapes as Legolas. So, naturally, he wandered _inside_ the Last Homely House instead, and somehow found himself a guest in Lord Elrond's quarters with a goblet of warm, fragrant he-knew-not-what in his hands. Lord Elrond, despite showing so much hospitality to the Woodland youngling, seemed to show no inclination for starting a conversation, and instead surveilled Legolas with a pensive smile that made him rather uneasy. Legolas had to think for quite a bit before this brilliant conversation starter suddenly popped into his mind,

"Lord Elrond, there is something that has troubled me for years about which I ought to seek your opinion."

Elrond raised an eyebrow, and replied with a widened, expectant smile, "Yes, young Legolas?"

"How shall I put this?" The Elf-prince rubbed his fingers against the goblet and frowned, his always cheerful countenance darkening as if troubled by the greatest dilemma in Arda. "Since I have arrived in Imladris, I have become more aware of the fact that my father's taste in apparel is a bit... unusual."

Elrond's second eyebrow shot up immediately, and he had to turn away to stifle a laugh. "Oh? In what way?"

Legolas did not notice Elrond's discomposure, for he was too busy recalling the particulars of his father's attire and accessories. "I will not discuss the Elk; I have come to terms with it long ago - "

"And you have come to be friends with it too, I imagine, judging from your involuntary smile."

" - Your reputed observant nature does you justice, Lord Elrond. But my father's crown I shall never understand." Legolas paused and, as the image of the crown appeared in his mind, almost instinctively placed a hand over his eyes. When he spoke again, his tone was agitated and much like when he had revealed Gollum's escape at the Council of Elrond a few weeks ago.

"Perhaps it is because I am an Elf of simplicity; I have always hoped he will opt to switch those flowered spikes to a simple circlet, one like your own, for example. But alas, he persists with the spikes year after year! And to complicate the matter even more, at the turn of each season he would craft a new crown - with the same daunting spikes - and paint it to match the season, occasionally adhering proper flora between the spikes to increase the crown's likeness to the surroundings. To think I have once thought this was normal! _You_ do not change your circlet every season, do you, Lord Elrond? Besides, there must be a reason he does this. My mother once told me that my father's taste in attire has not always been the way it is now."

When Legolas finished his monologue and looked at Elrond, he became alarmed, for Elrond now had his back towards the Elf-prince and was dramatically trembling all over.

"Lord Elrond, are you unwell?" He exclaimed and rushed to Elrond's side, wondering if he had somehow upset the Elf-lord. But Elrond's recovery was swift, and in an instant he turned around and smiled as if nothing has happened.

"Nay, I am _very_ well; almost _too_ well, in fact. Pray do not distress yourself and sit down once more. To start demystifying your father's crown - excuse me, _crowns_ - no, I do not change my circlet every season, and yes, there is a reason apart from your father's peculiar taste that he chose the current... designs of his, er, _menacing _crowns over simple, harmless circlets."

Elrond paused, for he hardly knew where to begin. He had to pace back and forth for a long while before he finally had his narrative sorted out, and at last, he blurted with a wry smirk, "What think you of spiders, young Legolas?"

"S-Spiders?" Legolas reiterated, not comprehending the connection. "My impression is that they are nasty creatures, I suppose. Mirkwood is full of them. I have grown rather accustomed to them, though I would certainly never hesitate to kill one if I see it."

"A just reaction for a valiant Mirkwood warrior," Elrond nodded, his smirk widening into an ear-to-ear grin. "But do you suppose you will feel the same way about them if, say, one day, a cluster of them - I repeat, not one, but an entire _cluster_ of at least fifteen small ones - most unexpectedly falls onto your head while you are exploring the wild with your friends?"

"Well, I would certainly be disgusted, though - " Legolas began, but the response was cut short once he caught the meaning in Elrond's words and grin.

"Oh. **_Oh_**."

There it was, the beautiful moment of epiphany_._

The Elf-prince and the Elf-lord stared at each other in silence, and as time trickled on, both began to tremble, first slightly, then just as dramatically as Elrond had trembled earlier. At last Legolas spoke again with a wavering voice, his lips twitching uncontrollably like a broken spring, "If you will excuse me, I would like to step out for a moment for a little, erm, fresh air."

"That is certainly your liberty." Elrond replied in a voice which wavered just as much, and extended a friendly but shaking hand gesture toward the door.

Legolas bowed hastily and walked out. Moments later, a long, merry laughter echoed for a good few minutes in the mountains of Imladris.

Elrond laughed too as he shook his head, and turned to a letter on his table, in which his Woodland friend Thranduil had written after his formal stating of business:

_On a side note, if my son asks at all about my crown during his stay in Imladris - he has never quite come to terms with its beauty, unfortunately - I implore you to keep silent on the matter of you-know-what. I am asking you this as a __friend__._

_Yours in earnest, &c. &c. _

_Thranduil Oropherion of the Woodland Realm_

"Well, my friend, I have not broken my sworn silence," Elrond muttered to the letter and shrugged. "I have certainly not dropped a word to Legolas about your piercing screams as you ran around and brushed off those spiders, nor your great fear of them falling on your head thereafter. Though, really, painting your crown to match the seasons for camouflage? I shall never cease to be amazed at your creativity."


End file.
